New Morning
by falsecompare
Summary: You are cordially invited to the arranged marriage of Prince Kurt of France and Prince Blaine of Spain.
1. Chapter 1

It was merely four weeks after Kurt's nineteenth birthday when his father announced that they would be making a trip to Spain. Normally, this would not have been a very big deal; the king and his sons took trips to Spain and many other countries all of the time. However, this time would be entirely different. Prince Kurt of Hummel, King Burt's youngest son, now of marrying age, would be signing the contract to be wed to a newly nineteen Blaine of Ander. The nuptials had been planned ever since the young Spaniard's birth.

As the trip grew closer, Kurt's utter loathing for the idea of being married off grew larger. He knew, of course, that he would have an arranged marriage. It had been settled long ago in France that for the heir to take the throne, they must be wed. Oh, how he loathed such archaic laws. They were always set to make him feel as if he was not living his life, but one that was already planned out for him. And while Kurt knew that he would always marry Spain's second prince, he never knew that it would be so early. Of course, the King's court had gone into a panic when the king had suffered from severe chest pains. They had urged King Burt to marry his son off quickly and it was only a matter of five letters before King Burt, Prince Kurt, his step brother Finn and his wife Rachel were on a thirty day journey to Madrid where they would settle all of the contracts of marriage between Kurt and Blaine.

On the last day of May, three carriages being pulled by large dark horses lined up on the front court grounds. The ornate buggies were beautifully white with blue and gold windows. As the servants loaded all of the trunks onto the tops of the carriages and the back stands, Kurt and his father made their ways from the Great Hall to the courtyard.

"Kiddo, I understand that you don't want to get married now, but really now is not the time to try and get out of it," Burt sighed, raising a broad hand to rest on his son's shoulder blade.

"But, dad, you have to understand. I know that you married my mother from an arranged marriage, but you knew her well before hand. I am going into this marriage completely blind. All I have to go off of is a measly portrait of him," Kurt sighs, feeling completely helpless in his situation, and holds up the framed picture of Blaine.

"Kurt," his father says, running a hand over his scalp, "You know that all I want for you is happiness. I want you to fall in love, the way that I did, but I am ill. You know that and so does the kingdom. All it would take is a drop of poison in my food to overthrow the kingdom…" Burt trails off, pulling his son forward so that they continue toward the carriages.

"Without a spouse, you cannot take the thrown and that means that anyone could kill you and Finn and take over this beautiful land. Kurt, I cannot allow that to happen, so you will marry Blaine and you will fall in love with him _after_ your wedding."

Kurt nods slightly at his father's words, feeling them like a knife in the back, and holds the small picture to his chest. His own father cannot change things to work in his favor. Gone is Kurt's childhood where he looked to his father to make things right; now Kurt is an adult, a soon to be married adult, who now has to fight his own battles and make his own happiness. Pulling himself up to his full height, Kurt stands tall and walks forward without his father. Rachel walks quickly to Kurt's side when she sees him approaching the carriages, linking arms with him.

"I have arranged so that we may share a carriage and Finn will be with your father," She says, pulling him to what he assumes is their coach. She climbs in easily, pulling her loose gown in after her. The baby pink skirts fall at her feet, filling the floor with the light fabric. Kurt steps in beside her, falling into the seat across from hers. Rachel arranges herself easily, pulling her skirt to and fro until she has slipped off her heeled shoes and pulled her legs up into the seat. He winks at her as he simply crosses his legs and pulls the photo from his chest and lets it rest on his thighs. Kurt sighs, tracing his finger down Blaine's cheek. He is as handsome as he was when Kurt received the portrait, perhaps even more so, and Kurt knows that under any other circumstances; Blaine would have been all he ever wanted. But now, being forced into something like this, Kurt feels aggravation grow in his stomach. He places the photo on the seat next to him, face down and turns to lean his head against the open window.

"Kurt, would you like to play cards? I've just learned the most delightful game from a book that Quinn sent me and it really is a lot of fun," says Rachel, already searching for the deck of cards in her small case. He nods, sitting up straight again and waiting for her to pull out the card game.

"So I give you a card face down and give myself one face down and then if you want another…" She trails off into the directions and he listens closely, as she starts to lay the cards on a top of her case, which she's laid across her lap. "And if you want another card, you are supposed to say 'hit me'. Isn't that just adorable?" Kurt chuckles along with her, looking to peak under the card to see if he needs another one.

"Stop that, Kurt! You have to guess; it's not a game if you already know!" She says, slapping at his hand and making him drop the cards back onto the case.

"Alright then, hit me!" He laughs, and she slaps down another card, this one face up.

"Okay, turn them over. OH! I win! You had twenty three and I had ten! If you go over twenty one, then you lose!" She laughed, scooping the cards back to her chest, tucking them under the deck.

"Oh, I see! Well, let's play again," Kurt laughs, "I'll beat you sometime. We have thirty days." Rachel slaps down another card.

It was their fifteenth day in the carriage when Kurt grew restless. He shifted his legs around, the light blue tights allowing him to move freely and then shifted them again, moving to and fro. The carriages were slowing down, meaning that they were stopping to let them out for a bit. They only stopped a few times, allowing the royal family to walk about the grounds surrounded by the guards. Kurt and Rachel locked arms, circling the open field as his father and brother went about the woods to relieve themselves.

"Are you excited, Kurt? I know you don't wish to marry now, but it really won't be so bad. He is very handsome and that really counts for more than you may think." Rachel asked, looking up at Kurt as they walked across the hard ground, their heeled shoes clicking loudly against the gravel.

"Rachel, had I been a normal person and met him and fallen in love, I would be thrilled. However, I find myself dreading even meeting him at this point. I just feel as if this entire thing will only bring me down," he replies, watching as his family comes back from the woods. "Come along. It's time to get back in the carriage."

They ride for four days, taking more breaks, but Rachel never mentions the wedding again. Kurt is very grateful. The entire idea of marrying the boy has worried Kurt beyond himself. They are about two hours from Ander Castle and Kurt is biting into pinky nail when Rachel reaches over and places a small hand over Kurt's, pulling his fingers from his mouth.

"Kurt, it will all settle itself out. Do not worry about something that you do not have a choice over," she whispers, lacing her fingers with his and reaching with her other for the small photo of Blaine. She leans her head onto Kurt's shoulder, holding the photo before them. Kurt sighs and rests his head on top of hers, rememorizing the portrait. It is just Blaine's head and shoulder; his dark hair savagely curling over the top of his head and his hazel eyes bright with youth. Blaine's shoulders look strong and wide, even for a nineteen year old boy's. His jaw sticks out beautifully, lips thick and pretty. He's just what Kurt wants. He sighs, reaching up to run a finger around the frame.

"What a handsome fellow," he laughs, "Too bad about the circumstances."

"Kurt, please promise me that you won't put all of your hate for the arranged marriage onto Blaine. He doesn't deserve it. He's in the same place as you, truly. It wouldn't be fair at all," Rachel grips onto his hand tight and holds the photo to her chest as if she is the one to be getting married to Blaine.

"Rachel…"

"Promise me, Kurt. You have to promise me that you won't be horrible to him. Please." She looks up at him, tears in her eyes and he knows that she is thinking of her first few months when she was married to Finn, his brother. He briefly remembers how terrified she had been, how hurt when Finn didn't acknowledge her at first. He feels tears well up in his eyes.

"I promise." And he means it. He will be kind to Blaine, welcome him into his family happily. However, there are some things that will not happen. He will not force Blaine to bear his children right away. No, they would fall in love first. They would get to know each other, fall in love and then raise children, because even if he didn't get to choose his husband, he would choose to love him.

* * *

When they arrive in Dalton, the sun is high in the sky. Kurt feels sweat build in the middle of his back and over his lip. He wipes at it quickly then pulls at the collar of his top, giving his throat some air. The carriages carry them through an arch way, horse shoes clinking against the stone of the ground. Kurt and Rachel barely keep their faces from outside of the windows, watching closely and taking in the beautiful courtyard. The carriages pull to a stop and Kurt and Rachel climb out to walk in with King Burt and Finn. The path is not long, and at the door stands a petite man with graying hair. He holds up his hands and beckons the group. As Kurt walks behind his father, he realizes that the King of Spain is in front of him and sweat beads on his body again, only not from the heat this time.

"Welcome! Welcome! Please come in from the sun."

Kurt's father grasps the King's forearm in welcome, following him inside of the palace. Kurt looks around in amazement; it is nothing like their home. The ceilings are just as high and the walls have the same decorative art around the room. He looks around catching Rachel's eye when they both lean in to a large painting of two boys – Kurt's betrothed and another older man, his brother.

"Oh, yes. Those are my boys," the King says, slapping a palm onto Kurt's back.

As Kurt looked up at the painting of his future husband and brother-in-law, a tiny spark of hope bubbled up in his throat. The petite boy's face looked kind and happy and Kurt felt that maybe it would all work out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"He loo-"

"looks like an angel, Blaine, I know." Tina sighs, leaning back onto the blue quilt beneath them, throwing an arm over her eyes. The sun was just beginning to settle over them, bringing rays of light down to bronze their skin. Tina reaches up to wipe the sweat from her brow; already the day was so terribly hot.

"Sorry, I know you must have grown tired of my excitement by now," Blaine says, propping his chin up on the palm of his hand and staring down at the square frame with the photo of his betrothed settled inside. Only the boy's head and shoulders are visible. Tina remembers the photo vividly; brown sweeping hair and eyes like ice. He did have a look about him, though Tina wouldn't exactly call it angelic.

She peaked up at him from under the shade of her forearm, seeing the sun flow through his curls and feels her stomach flutter. "Only slightly," she laughs, "I am more tired of this heat and it is only June."

"I believe that it isn't too bad; apparently France does not get very warm," he replies, settling onto his stomach. His white shirt blows loosely in the slight breeze, sticking to his lower back whenever the trees grow still. Tina sighs as Blaine pulls their conversation back to his marriage.

"No, they will cover you up with brightly colored silks and make you wear a white wig and you will sweat like a pig," she says, curling a raven twist around her finger and giving it a quick tug. Blaine jerks back, pouting, before looking back at the photo of the pale man he is to marry.

"Perhaps with him, France will not find me hating it." Tina barely contains rolling her eyes at her best friend.

"Why can't we go inside again?" She asks, rolling over on her side and looking up at the younger boy.

"My father has given me strict instructions to stay outside because _he _is here." Blaine whispers, staring up at the palace where his betrothed is. "And that is why I have to sleep in the separate wing and take dinner in my room this week."

Tina watches as hazel eyes scan the windows, searching for a hint of movement. Curtains float with passersby but Blaine knows, somehow he knows, that it cannot be his betrothed; if it was him, the windows would open, birds would sing, wedding bells would chime. Blaine's lips part in a sigh, surely his true lover is inside of the palace, passing by paintings of his family, gazing up at the pictures of Blaine and thinking that Cooper really isn't as handsome as Blaine. Really, he isn't. He sighs again, looking over at Tina.

"Do you want to go see if the kitchen has any strawberries that we can eat?" He asks, pushing himself to stand up and then, there it is. There is an open window, third from the right and Blaine can see him. It has to be him. He can see the milky skin, coiffed hair. It has to be him. "Tina! Look!" He barely blinks down at her, before looking back. No… No, he's not there.

"What is it?" She asks, staring up at the palace too.

"He was… he was just there." Blaine whispers to himself, pointing up at the open window. The sun has disappeared behind a cluster of clouds, bringing much needed seconds of shade over them. Tina sighs in relief before looking up at the window, finding the glass pushed open but no movement inside.

"Perhaps your mind is playing tricks. C'mon, let's go get the strawberries." She grips onto his wrist, tugging him off toward the palace to sneak in to the kitchens, where the cook will have stashed a large bowl of fruit for them to snack on. Blaine stares up at the window, watching for any sort of movement. There is nothing.

Tina pulls him easily and Blaine drops the small photo into the pocket of his loose pants. The grass tickles at his bare ankles and Blaine takes his wrist back, laughing as he jogs around Tina.

"I'm going to get there before you," He shrieks, not looking back to see if she has started running as well. The breeze starts up again, and Blaine hears Tina shout something at him but he doesn't turn back. He can't – the kitchens are so close. It's his demise when a rock finds itself on his path; tripping, Blaine falls to his stomach grunting loudly into the thick grass. Tina falls beside him, breathing harshly, but holding a finger up to her lips. Brow furrowed, Blaine mouths a 'what?' to her, but she only points up. And then he hears it – a high voice and his father's and strangers.

"These are our beautiful gardens, yes. Do you enjoy greenery, Kurt?" His father asks, and Blaine's stomach flips over as he hears Kurt speak for the first time. A high tone shifting in the air to make words that Blaine doesn't catch; he feels around for Tina's hand, grasping it firmly. He hears the click of heeled shoes turn to go back into the palace and the pair wait, silent behind the bushes to make sure that they are truly alone. Blaine's eyes tear up as he dreams of all the words that he will share with that one man, the beautiful prince.

"Strawberries do not sound as delicious now… do they?" Tina whispers once they've risen up again. The breeze blows her hair wildly and Blaine is struck by the beauty of her.

"No, they don't sound interesting. You know, I would fancy a walk down to the fountain," he points down toward the fountain built up with a stone woman and many cherubs. "What do you say?"

"Absolutely," She answers, turning toward the fountain. Tina laces her arm through Blaine's elbow, looking around the gardens and then back up at her best friend. "Blaine, has your mother talked to you of your life after you and he are married?"

"Some; mostly about when I have children and what France will be like. Why?" He asks, letting the grass tickle his bare feet when he pulls them off course, back to their blanket instead of to the fountain.

"Well, I wondered if she'd spoken with you about your, well you know?" She blinks down at his crotch before looking away. Following easily, Tina hangs back only slightly as they draw closer watching her best friend.

"You mean about my wedding night?" He whispers, dropping her arm and falling to the blanket. He lies back easily, crossing his legs and pulling his arms behind his head. The sun has once again come out and shines brightly into his tanned skin. She falls down beside him, closing her own eyes.

"Yes. You know, I hear it is quite painful for you." The statement comes out very matter-of-factly and Blaine's brow furrows on his forehead, crinkly up and then relaxing.

"Painful how?"

"Well, your body is built differently than a females'. Your hips are much smaller than mine or Brittany's," she says, "Perhaps you won't open as you're meant to."

Blaine grimaces, feeling his stomach flip over. He really hadn't thought very much of his wedding night. Knowing, of course, that with the anatomy of a traditional female, he would be on the receiving end of pregnancy, Blaine had only really thought it out that far.

"Tina, I don't think I'd like to talk of this anymore," he says, sitting up quickly and avoiding her eyes. "Perhaps we should go eat those strawberries now, huh?"

When Tina looks up at Blaine, he is already walking away from her.


	3. Chapter 3

You are cordially invited to the arranged marriage of Prince Kurt of France and Prince Blaine of Spain.

warnings for bp!blaine, ust, eventual mpreg, and arranged marriage(maybe)

also available on ao3

* * *

The room where Kurt signs his life away is covered in a maroon fabric that falls from the ceiling and is covered periodically with beautiful paintings of his soon to be in-laws. The delicate furniture is placed around the room beautifully and under any other circumstances, Kurt would have loved to know who helped put the room together. The windows are open and a slight breeze drifts in from the treetops every few minutes when they sun hides away behind the thick clouds. Kurt, with a stomach tied in knots and palms that double as fountains, grips an emerald colored pen in his right hand poised delicately over a long contract. At the top, his name is written beautiful above his betrothed. Blaine, he thinks, is a beautiful name.

However beautiful he may find the name, the idea of signing his marriage contract is foreboding. He's terrified as he draws out the curves and lines of his signature, swooping with his middle name and crossing through the 'H' in his surname almost viciously. As he lays the pen down on the table, staring down at the declaration with an odd sense of relief. Is it relief? He doesn't really know at the moment, but he feels extremely tired now, like a weight has been lifted and then resettled, weighing down his shoulders with a heavy hand. His father's falls down on top of it.

"Thank you, son."

Kurt stares down at his signature. The truth of his actions and what will now happen settle deep into his gut, whirling around and sending his knotted stomach into a large ball of nerves. Lord, what will happen now?

* * *

It is two days after Kurt signs the contract that they finally leave for France. Between bites of eggs, Blaine listens to the cook tell Tina about their leaving. His fork clatters loudly on the floor and Blaine runs happily to the front window to watch the carriages leave with Tina running up close behind. The sun hides away during the morning, covering the ground in shadows of gray. The wind blows heavily, pushing the doors back at Blaine as he tries to leave and in his hurry, he shoves them harder than he intended slamming them against the walls with a deafening bang. His eyes only really catch the specks of the carriages, riding through the tall gates, clop-clopping their way back to his future home.

He begins packing that night, tossing clothes toward his trunk as Tina watches from his bed. She sits patiently, waiting for Blaine to begin to get nervous, scared even; but it is only excitement that blooms in Blaine's stomach, bubbling up within his compact body and expelling itself in the flush of his cheeks and toothy smile that blooms on his mouth. Rushing around his room, the young man packs his dark green and crème journal set and pens into their cases and stacks them up on the edge of his desk ready to be slipped into his trunk. Blaine rushes around the room, picking up one thing and then dropping it for another. His thoughts are moving too fast and his tiny body can't keep up. When he finally lies back on the bed, the sun has set and his room is a mess. Tina opens her mouth to confront her best friend when his mother knocks on the door and lets herself in.

"Dear, would you give us a moment?"

The queen has always been a quiet woman, small and thin. Blaine has always looked up to his mother, admiring her poise and kind smile. He had always stuck close to his mother in his childhood, following her around the palace and copying her as she completed day-to-day tasks. After Tina leaves the room, his mother climbs up beside him on the bed, pulling him into her side and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"So, tell me all about it," He whispers, looking down at his fingers, "It surely isn't going to be as wonderful as I think."

She hums thoughtfully, "Well, you never know. I have met him and he seems to be very kind. Handsome as well."

Blaine laughs slightly, pulling from her arms to lie back. "But do you think that he will be happy? Is he excited?"

"Well, dear, I am sure that he is excited, but under the circumstances, his not yours, excitement is hard to build up."

"What do you mean?"

"His father is very ill and he has to get married right away in order to save his country from being overtaken. Of course, you two would have gotten married eventually, but it wasn't supposed to happen until you were twenty one and you were supposed to have many arranged meetings and fancy dinners. It didn't work out the way that his mother and I had planned it, so we are all adapting to something different now. Their family is in a difficult position, so I'm sure that he is feeling very stressed, the poor thing."

Blaine feels tears prick at his eyes, thinking of what he and the other man could have had. How wonderful would it have been to meet slowly and fall in love as common people did? Shaking his head, Blaine sits up, looking at his mother thoughtfully.

"I think that what could have been would have been wonderful, but what will be shall be even more amazing," he says, grasping her hand and then rolling from the bed. "What all shall I take with me?"

"You can't take anything, sweetheart; you are not allowed to bring anything from a foreign court into France," she says, watching as her son stares into his closet.

"Oh. Not even my journals?"

"Nothing."

He sighs and closes the top of his trunk with all of the things inside. When he looks up, his mother is watching him with an odd look.

"What is it?"

"Do you have any questions? Anything you want me to tell you about before you leave me?" She reaches out for his hands, gripping them tightly and pulling him back onto the bed.

Thoughts float through his mind. Will Kurt expect for him to know everything on their wedding night? Will Kurt have been with other people? Will he be expected to bear children immediately? Will it hurt to have children? Will the people of France like him? Will they approve of him and Kurt? Will everything be okay?

Blaine shakes his head and says, "No, I think I'm alright."

At least, he hopes so.


	4. Chapter 4

You are cordially invited to the arranged marriage of Prince Kurt of France and Prince Blaine of Spain.

warnings for bp!blaine, ust, eventual mpreg, and arranged marriage

also available on ao3

* * *

The border between France and Spain is hidden away from public eyes in towering trees. It is here, in an empty patch that Blaine will move onto French soil, leaving behind all he has known in Spain. A large circus-like tent is set up; sides open to allow the summer breeze to flow through as people hide away from the sun. It is half noon when Blaine's carriage, which had been traveling twelve days unto that point where he would leave his home country behind forever, would arrive and he would become a French prince.

On the opposite side of the tent, on French soil, Kurt stood with Rachel making small circles around the designated area. Rachel pulls away from Kurt every few minutes, peeking into the tent where the King sits with her husband, waiting for the young man to arrive, to change over and meet his future husband.

"Rachel, really, you would think that you were marrying him," Kurt laughs, pulling at his light blue jacket. He'd chosen it specifically for the way it made his eyes stand out; he hoped that Blaine was as partial to blue eyes as he was to curly hair.

The sun shines down brightly through the leaves, casting light onto Kurt and Rachel as they walk around the land, too nervous to sit and wait for the prince to arrive. At half noon, after the royal family had been fed a small lunch and had all vacated the tent to walk around the woods, which had become shaded from the sun as it hid behind the thick white clouds. Kurt's ears pick up on every turning wheel as his betrothed's carriage arrives, stopping to let the young man out and the sudden chatter of the young servant girls who have been brought along to help Blaine dress in his new clothing before he will meet Kurt. His palms prickle with beads of sweat and Rachel's grip on his arm is the only thing that keeps him from peeking into the tent like all of the other young girls.

* * *

Blaine had never really minded long carriage rides, but they did tend to make him quite sick feeling after a little while. The constant rocking motion never sat well with his stomach and nausea came rather quickly when he was forced to travel long distances. Of course, his impending nuptials and the excitement of meeting his prince added to the butterflies in his tummy.

"I really hope that your skin doesn't have that green tint when you meet your fiancé; it really isn't very becoming," Tina laughs, watching as Blaine holds a hand to his mouth and a cool cloth to his forehead.

He shoots her a ghastly glare but doesn't open his mouth in fear of being sick all over himself. They are very close and he can see the tent where he will cross over out of the window. The nerves in his stomach speed up in their flipping time, turning over and the green tint of his skin must grow because Tina casts him another worried glance. He looks over at her, from the corner of his eye. It will be the last time he ever sees her; well, at least it will for a long while. Tina had been his very best friend from a young age when she had began helping him dress when he was only thirteen. She had been there with him through everything and really the thought of leaving her behind terrifies him. He thinks perhaps that his husband will not mind if she comes to work for them after a while. His stomach rolls again as the carriage comes to a stop and the door is opened by a large man with white face makeup on.

"Prince Blaine, welcome to France."

A woman holds her arms out, falling just above the wide hips of her gown. The pastel colors stand out brightly against the dark foliage and Blaine feels a bit ridiculous wondering if he will have to wear the white make up as well.

"Please, come inside."

Tina's hand falls on his back, pushing him forward from the carriage. He steps down, following the woman into the striped tent, which has a large wardrobe set up inside as well as chairs and small tables. There are remnants from a lunch of some sort and Blaine notices a small plate of pastel colored macaroons left out.

"Now that you are a prince of France, you will leave all of your home country behind you. No piece of fabric or possession may follow you there. His majesty has picked out an outfit for you to wear as you meet him and the King. We will change you now and then you shall meet the royal family."

The woman's voice is cold as she says all of this, and when she finishes, the girls are upon him, pulling his tunic off and then his tights down. Standing nude in the middle of an open tent was not exactly how Blaine had planned on entering France; he bring his palms down to hide his sex, casting a nervous glance around the tent and when he looks up, through to the other side, a pair of eyes meet his but when he blinks they are gone. The wide hipped woman slaps at his elbows, making him raise his arms over his head so that a long shirt can be slipped over his body. A girl kneels at his feet, pulling a pair of crème colored tights over his legs before slipping his feet into a pair of heeled shoes. A jacket comes over his shirt, dark green in color and slightly suffocating once buttoned up. When the girls have dressed him in the clothes of France, the woman appears before him again.

"Say goodbye to your friend."

Tina. Blaine had almost forgotten about her in the haze of new clothing and sixteen year old girls. He turns to see her standing off to the side, outside of the tent alone. She steps forward at his beckoning and then embraces him tightly, digging her fingertips into his back.

"Write me, alright? I want to hear about all of it. Make sure he's nice to you and gives you lots of French babies," She giggles into his ear, voice thick with tears and Blaine feels tears build up behind his own eyes.

"I love you so much. I'll write you everyday." With a last long squeeze, he lets go of her and when Blaine turns back around, the woman is waiting for him at the other end of the tent, holding a hand out to for him.

The walk feels both like the longest and shortest walk he has ever taken; like a newborn lamb, his legs feel weak, as if they could buckle at any moment. His heart beats quickly within his chest, pounding its way through bone and flesh. Sweat gathers at the back of his neck and he thanks God that these nerves haven't been around for too long. Dealing with all of the feelings at once was overwhelming and the heat around him, under his flesh, bubbles and makes him feel slightly mortified. He hopes that his skin hasn't taken the green tint again.

He stops just on the inside of the tent as a chatter of different voices fall upon his ears. The high voice, the one from the garden, is talking sweetly just on the other side. Blaine can see him, covered in a light blue jacket talking with a dark haired girl. When he looks around for the woman, he see that she has left him alone and Blaine startles when a large hand falls on his shoulder.

"Hello!" A large man, hairless with the happiest of smiles, looks down at him. Blaine had always thought the King of France would be like his father, stoic and harsh. It is obvious through his kind eyes and laughed lined face that he was wrong. "Welcome to our family. Kurt, come here and meet your new husband."

Kurt.

It is as if Blaine's heartbeat has skipped, before it had merely pumped the blood through his body, kept him alive. Now, it was as if every time it reached up for his lungs it whispered a quiet Kurt. Kurt. Kurt.

Maybe he had jumped a bit too quickly, but as he stared up at the taller boy, he knew that it was all meant to be. From their birth, this moment had been planned for them both and Blaine had never felt more right than he did as he stared up the beautiful man before him.


	5. Chapter 5

rip cory monteith.

* * *

Looking at Blaine in person had taken Kurt's breath away; his heart felt like it had flipped over and started beating anew. How had he ever lived without looking at that face everyday, those innocent eyes and pink lips? It is even more shocking to look at Blaine in his white wedding garb. The jacket is cloaked in lace in the back, elegant in its design by Kurt. His own, made with bits of leather in the shoulders, feels tight, or maybe that's just his skin. Seriously, how was his new husband so beautiful?

When their wedding ceremony is over, he can't keep his eyes off of Blaine, who takes in everything around him with wide, wondering eyes and a soft expression. It had taken ten days in that God forsaken carriage and Blaine had been forced to ride with Rachel and Finn so that Kurt would be with his father. The entire trip had been fleeting glances as they went in opposite directions to relieve themselves and then dreams of each other on the ride back to Paris. Now that he finally had the chance, Kurt couldn't keep his eyes off of Blaine with his broad shoulders and thin waist, displayed beautifully in his wedding garb. The creamy tights flow over the thick thighs and muscled calves and his feet are covered with black, heeled oxfords. Kurt swallows thickly and turns away, pulling discreetly at the collar of his own jacket.

It is late in the night, after they eat for hours and drink so many glasses of wine that Blaine is feeling more than a bit dizzy, when they share the first dance. Kurt stands at his father's cue, offering his hand to Blaine to lead him to middle of the floor as guests curve around them. The music starts, a slow song that Kurt has heard at every royal wedding, and Blaine's hand hangs high in the air, palm to palm, with Kurt's. They dance around one another, eyes locked and really, how is it possible for a blue to be that clear? It feels like Blaine can see straight into the soul, deep though it may be, of his husband. They dance around the floor until the rest of the band joins in behind the singers and the guests began turning around them, dresses swinging around tiny feet. The music plays over and over and eventually Kurt takes Blaine into his arms, heavy hands resting on his hips, warm pressure leaving permanent feelings into the soft skin through white fabric. The songs change, but Blaine hears the same one, a never-ending tune as he twirls around the dance floor with his new husband.

"Excuse me, everyone, but it is time for us to bid the new princes a goodnight," King Burt is rosy-cheeked and all smiles when he makes the announcement at half eleven. Somewhere in the back of his mind, behind the idea of being married and the tingly feeling the wine had given him, Kurt recognizes the pain in his feet and then what everyone in the room expects him to do tonight. He glances at the faces around him, looking into their glassy eyes. Do they think that he will carry the baby? He is certainly more "womanly" than his new husband, but – and it would shame him to admit it – surely they noticed the wide hips that Blaine had been given. He was to carry the heir, birth the prince or princess. Kurt shivers at the thought, looking at Blaine from the corner of his eye as they follow the Priest out of the dining hall all the way up to their wing of the palace, a line of other Royals close behind.

Kurt's head almost aches to think of taking away the youth that surrounds Blaine, settling in his cheeks and eyes so beautifully. They don't have to be fathers yet and, truly, the idea is so unsettling. He is only just began adulthood and Blaine is even more of a child than he is; in no way are they ready to raise children. It is in that moment that Kurt makes a decision that will affect both him and Blaine for at least the first year of their marriage.

The priest leads them into their bedroom where Kurt and Blaine are separated behind different screens and helped change into their sheer underclothes for the night. Their guests gather around the room behind the Priest and his other officials. Blaine holds his arms out and doesn't even cover himself between being nude and having the soft cloth slipped over his skin, slithering with secrets of nighttime. He shivers and one of the older girls winks at him before straightening out her face and turning him to face the other side of the room, keeping her palms on his shoulders.

"Forgive me for being perhaps too forward, but the pain won't last and the prince is a terribly gentle person. Trust me." The whisper fills his stomach with more butterflies rather than the soothing that it was meant to do, but he nods almost unnoticeably. Across the room, Kurt's back is to him, white fabric covering his strong shoulders, and, if Blaine looks hard enough, he can see the outline of a smooth, thin waist. He shivers again.

When Kurt turns around and makes eye contact with Blaine, the girl lightly nudges him forward, bare feet sliding over the smooth stone floor. The walk silently, climbing into the bed as unawkwardly as they can with most of their wedding guests watching them. Blaine tries not to make eye contact with anyone, staring down at his hands over the soft fabric of the crème colored duvet. He aches to lie back and just take a moment to assess how things have really changed now, but tonight, is about more than just rest. His stomach flutters as the Priests bless them with long lives and many children and his stomach flutters more from embarrassment because all of those people will know that something will be different about him the next day. He sneaks a look at Kurt from the corner of his eye, eyeing over his beautiful profile.

Kurt's eyes are also downcast and his thick lower lip is pulled into his mouth, being bitten Blaine assumes. He focuses back on his own hands; a bit more content that Kurt is as nervous as he is. It doesn't take long for the Priest to finish, blessing them and then filing out with the younger boys holding candles following behind him and then their guests, one by one. As the last person leaves, blowing out the candle at the door, Blaine lets out a shuddering breath… What happens now?

"Well, goodnight," Kurt whispers, sliding down into the covers and turning away from his.

Wait, what? Aren't they supposed to make love? Isn't that what usually happens? Blaine looks down at the curves of Kurt's body under the blankets, watching him breathe in and then out. Confused, he slips down and brings the covers up to his chest, slipping his arms out to rest over his stomach. Maybe it's a test. Maybe he is meant to stay awake until Kurt is ready to make love to him. He keeps his eyes on the dark, thoughts loud in the night and Kurt's hands a phantom pressure on his hips. Blaine never falls asleep. Kurt never moves.


	6. Chapter 6

Blaine is strolling around the palace when he sees the first evergreen tree being decorated with its various fruits and has it really been that long since he came to France? In some ways, Blaine's body screams the affirmative through its slouched shoulders and confused brow or through his longing to see his mother again. The letters he's sent are not often dated due to his excitement for speaking with her, but he's sure that they really can't be reading December already. He watches as the servant girls place the apples and nuts between limbs and talk quietly. Truly, it only feels like he's been married for a few days, not months, because Kurt is no warmer to him that he was during their first dance. Their whispered greetings in the morning and at bedtime are what Blaine looks forward to, because Kurt will not really speak to him unless they are alone.

Touches are fleeting, feet touching at night or when Kurt wakes up curled around him like a cat, nose pressed tightly into the nape of his neck, arms circling his torso like a lifeline and groin pressed close into Blaine's behind. It hadn't been often that Blaine woke up with Kurt like that, until most recently when the temperatures had dropped. After the first time, Kurt had woken up embarrassed, hurrying out of bed and from the room as if someone was chasing him. Blaine had cried in bed most of the morning, burrowing himself in the want to go home and for a husband that loved him. Why had God given him someone as cold as Kurt had been?

Keeping his eyes down, Blaine walks on passed the girls and the beautiful tree toward his and Kurt's wing of the palace, hoping for a few moments of silence (not that anyone ever spoke to him really) to write to his mother again and perhaps Tina who had only written short letters about how Michael Chang had wanted her hand. He knew Michael, a stable boy that had the kindest eyes and the warmest heart. He didn't write her back.

Having taken many walks through the halls of the palace, Blaine kept his head down as he turned the corners and avoided the groups of people who usually stood around to gossip. Truthfully, the shame that Blaine felt rolled off of him in waves and made him such an easy target for Sebastian, that if he hadn't taken the chance it would have been a shame. Of course there was a tiny problem, Sebastian could not speak to Blaine unless spoken to first. Sebastian knew though, he knew just what to do.

Blaine is merely inches from his room when a tall boy stands in front of him, blocking his path. He looks up, trying to make his way around but the boy moves still speaking with his friends. Clearing his throat, he mutters a very small "Excuse me."

The man turns around, and had it been a different day in a different country, Blaine would have found him to be very handsome. The man smirks down at Blaine, tongue in his cheek.

"Well, boys, if it isn't the prude himself." Blaine flinches back, staring up at the man as his friends chuckle.

"Pardon."

"Did you hear that, boys? He wants us to pardon him for not being knocked up yet. Kid, you are nowhere near being knocked up and we all know it."

"I'm sorry," Blaine starts, but the boy cuts him off, stalking toward him like a predator, backing him against the wall.

"You better be sorry. Prince Kurt deserves better than the pussy he's been forced to marry. No wonder he doesn't want to let you carry his children. They would be hideous," the man smirks and taps on Blaine's cheek, rewarded in a flinch.

"Let's go, boys."

The men walk away; poking at Blaine as they go and making him feel all of two feet tall. His knees shake and the back of his neck grows hot with the weight of Sebastian's words. His head reels and tears prickle at the back of his eyelids like fire. It takes him a few shaky seconds to get into the bedroom, but the tears fall the minute the door is shut and he slides down the wall to the floor, curling up like he had when nightmares had plagued him as a child. Locking his arms around his knees and ducking his face into his body, tears soaking into the fabric of his lavender tights. Sebastian's words flow through his bloodstream and are whispered into his ears over and over and over again. Sobs wrack his body and Blaine's heart hurts in so many ways.

* * *

It is late after dinner when Kurt retreats from his studio to his bedroom. The windows shed no light on his path, and he is forced to rely on the candle he'd lit before leaving. Making his way to the room is no problem, but opening the door proves to be. It takes at least three shoves to open the door, and then he's finding his husband curled in on himself on the floor. He closes the door and rushes to hover over Blaine, feeling his icy skin and he shakes him awake, or tries to. Blaine's eyes are swollen and his body shivers with the chilled air that surrounds them. Setting the candle on the floor and pulling his wits about him, Kurt forces the smaller man's body into a sitting position and shakes his shoulders to rouse him. Amber eyes peak up Kurt and his heart beats quickly – the innocence and wonder that once had sparked hope and promise in Kurt's belly was gone. Blaine shied away, curling his body backwards and almost out of Kurt's palms that still rested on his shoulders.

"No, Blaine, you have to get in bed." The younger man slouches again, leaning against the door and away from Kurt's body heat. Blaine's head feels so foggy but then he's being lifted and dark covers him, but then he's on something so soft, so comfortable. He closes his eyes and falls back asleep.

* * *

Blaine wakes up with warmth surrounding him, sweat settles in the middle of chest and under his arms, but the heat feels so good. He settles in, burrows himself deeper into the warmth and then he feels it, like he has a few times before. Kurt's upturned nose is under his hairline and his arms anchor Blaine to his body, locked into the heat of his flesh. An ankle is settled over Blaine's and a hard pressure rests on his backside. He flushes slightly, but pushes back into it feeling Kurt's erection slide over him and a fever sets in his stomach. He pushes back and whines slightly at the pressure that settles in his stomach. But oh, oh why is that happening?

Kurt's eyes blink open and a groan bubbles in his throat as he recognizes the feeling in his groin. He jerks back to land on his back and Blaine doesn't move. He hopes desperately that he isn't awake as he flees from the bed and over to the door where he can escape to Rachel's for a little while. It is when he gets to the door that Sebastian's words float through Blaine's brain and a rugged sob finds its way through his lips. Kurt stops with his hand on the doorknob, a weight in his stomach, and then leaves the bedroom.


End file.
